My Son
by Miriel Tolkien
Summary: I hesitate there on the bridge. Galaxies wait, watch, breathless. . . . He moves. One step. Away from me. And I can bear it no longer. Major spoilers for The Force Awakens. You've been warned.


**MAJOR spoilers for The Force Awakens!**

 **This is written by a friend of mine who took me up on my offer that I'd post it for her. Neither of us owns Star Wars or any characters therein, et cetera. Enjoy, and do review!**

I am standing here surrounded by enemies, and you would think my only thought would be them, how to escape them, how to get out undetected.

I am standing here aware of my friends, my allies, waiting for me to lead them far, far away from this place of darkness.

I am standing here staring at the back of the villain, the enemy, the leader of these forces of evil. He does not see he, but he can feel me. I know he can.

I should be scared. I should be angry. I should be running.

But instead, I am standing here, and the thoughts of enemies and friends fade away, and all I can see is my son.

 _My son._

He has sent these troopers to kill me, but I like to think that he sent them to do what he could not.

Because just as I could never kill him—though he is my enemy now, though his back is turned, though some might call this a chance too good to be missed—just as I could never fire that shot, I know he would never use his power against me.

Because he's my son.

I am his father.

We are family.

And that _matters_.

I have seen it firsthand, this power of family. I have seen two hearts calling to each other across the galaxies, two hearts who could not be contained by time, by distance, by danger, by the awful truth of their heritage. Two hearts who loved in a time when love was foolish beyond belief. Two hearts whose love ultimately destroyed the greatest hatred and fear this universe has ever known. Two hearts who were family, who rescued another heart to rejoin that family.

A gust of frigid wind knocks against my face, and I am jerked back to the present. Outside, snow is falling. I can see the blue-gray storm from the tiny opening far above. Two figures stand there, silhouetted against the gathering darkness.

Darkness, though it is midday.

Darkness, because they are killing the sun.

 _He_ is killing the sun.

My son.

I am walking now, as if my feet move of their own accord. I am not running away. I am not escaping. I am treading closer to the lair of the dragon.

I stop at the edge of the bridge. I can see nothing now, not the flashes of white that are the troopers sent to murder me, not the figures far away whom I have grown to love, not the great void opening below me.

I see him. My son.

 _If you find our son, bring him home._

His back is still toward me. It is a wall between us, and it tears at me. How tall and wide and untouchable is the darkness of his cloak! Who am I, to think I could pierce that barrier? Who am I, to think my feeble light—oh so feeble compared to hers, to his, to those two hearts—could crack the night that is strangling my son?

I hesitate there on the bridge.

Galaxies wait, watch, breathless.

 _Bring him home._

He moves. One step. Away from me. And I can bear it no longer.

" _BEN!_ "

How many years has it been since I spoke that name? How many years has it been since he's heard it? The frozen anticipation of the universe snaps, and all is movement, a dizzying, agonizingly slow cacophony of movement as he turns and he sees and we both start toward each other.

Below us, darkness yawns.

The dark is so hungry. So insatiable. But she believes I can stifle it, stave it off.

And suddenly, I find myself believing too.

Because he's my son.

He isn't darkness. He's my _son_. A human. A man. Beloved.

I know it, when he pulls off his mask, that I have won. That he's coming home. When his eyes search mine, I am seared through, the heat of his gaze, of his need, cauterizing the maze of wounds that is my heart.

"I'm being torn apart," he whispers, and his voices echoes in the chambers of this vast fortress, echoes in my soul. "I know what I have to do, but I don't know if I have the strength to do it."

His words remind me of another. He told me the story of the swamp planet, of confronting his enemy only to discover that it was himself in the helmet.

But he did it. He found the strength. And his blood runs through the veins of my son.

I step closer.

Then he says it: "Will you help me?"

Like my steps toward him, my next words leap out without a thought: "Anything. Anything."

Because it is true. I _will_ do anything for you. _Anything_. For you, my son. My son.

I will do anything for you.

I will fight for you.

I will rescue you.

I will even _die_ for you.

Anything.

This, son, is what family is. It's what love is. You try to forget, but you can't. It runs through your blood, is written on your heart.

Sacrifice. Trust. Love. Family. These are the Light, and it is calling to you. I know it.

He holds out his lightsaber, and for the first time, my gaze drops from his face. What does it mean? Is he giving it to me? Am I supposed to use it? Something in the back of my mind crawls, and I shove it down. I place my hands on it. I step closer. Because I trust him.

A cold whisper, far colder than the frozen air that winds around us, slices through my brain: _Trust will kill you._

My hands wrap around the hilt. It, too, is cold. But the fire in my heart cries back, _Then it is_

 _Better_

 _To_

 _Die._

I will trust my son.

I will love my son.

I will—

They say in the moments before you die your whole life flashes before your eyes. I can testify that this is true. In that moment of shock, of stunned numbness, a few images surface far more clearly than the rest, filling my gaze:

My ship, my beauty, the first time I laid eyes on her, the first time I flew her and felt the smoothness of her glide and the power of her engines, the first time I put her in hyperdrive and soared through the galaxies, so sure that nothing could ever stop us—

Meeting _him_ the first time, so young, so naive, so annoying and hopeful and irresistible, with that fire in his blue eyes, that big grin, how he never doubted me, that loyalty I have tried to emulate over these years but just came to him naturally—I'm so sorry, kid, for all this pain I have caused you— _pain_ , finally trickling into my awareness—

Those two up there, the new hopes for this world, they will be fine, just fine. The girl knows what she's doing, and she has good blood in her veins. Good blood, indeed—and now my blood is leaking out, betraying me, red as the sword in my gut—

And the boy up there watching me, he is good, solid, faithful. Young. But it is all right to be young. I was young once, we all were, those were the days …

And Chewie, _Chewie_ , old pal, it's been so good, I couldn't have asked for a better—

Leia. Pain, pain, _pain_ in my gut as the fire stabs all life out of it, I had no idea I could hurt this much, and I've had plenty of wounds in my life—pain because I love you, always have, and I haven't been with you nearly enough and the horror of this moment is wrapped up with you and our love—

 _Pain!_

World unraveling … mind betraying me … which way is up? I can't tell…am I falling? No—wait, there he is.

My son.

He stares at me.

He has killed me.

 _He killed me._

My son!

The sword is gone, gone out of my body just like my life and my blood, and I can feel my legs crumpling, but he is still there, staring at me.

"Thank you," he whispers.

And in that moment, I see two great choices: I could hate him, hate him, for betraying me again— _again_!—for _killing_ me, his father. Because I trusted him and I was tricked, and I loved him and I was hated in return, and I raised him and I was cut down by him. Who could love this great, vast darkness?

But I do not see the darkness.

I still see, as I always have, the face of my son.

 _You are so beautiful._

I am falling now, I can tell. With some strength I did not know I had, I reach up and touch his face.

Oh, my son.

Will you remember?

Will you remember before the end?

How I loved you? How I trusted you? How we all did, your mother and your uncle and the girl and I?

How it's all about sacrifice and trust and love and family and saying "Anything" and not seeing the darkness but seeing _through_ the darkness to the light that you could be?

Because I still believe it. Your mother did too.

There is still light in you.

I can see it.

And maybe this pain, this death, maybe it will cause it to erupt. Maybe this is the catalyst. This is the greatest moment of my life, son. Through my death, could I give you life? You can't escape the life, son. It's your destiny.

You know what runs strong in your family?

Redemption. _Light_.

Don't forget.

My last taste is my tears, my last scent is my blood, my last touch is his skin, my last sight is his eyes, my last sound is his voice—

 _Thank you._

Then I am falling into the darkness, into a great light.


End file.
